Fashioning the Body: Versions of the Citizen, the Self, and the Subject

Vertical Roll
1972 / 20 min / b&w / sound
Director: Joan Jonas

Focusing on time & space, spectator & spectacle, this first film was definitely a rough idea to keep focus on.  The sound was obnoxiously violent, whereas the film reel tripping acted as a strobe light somewhat under control.  I attempted to just watch the film with my eyes and then only my ears, but the film itself was so drastic and immature, it reminded me of Clockwork Orange, and this was how you’d drive a person crazy!  From an artistic point, Joan’s idea was her body stuck in a “box” and as the film progressed different angles and shots/activities of her body would appear repeatedly, which created an echo effect in which the sound seemed to illuminate.  Each take also seemed to establish new eye levels of focus; you were never looking in the same spot twice.  Towards the end her head entered the screen but was outside the “box.”

Female Sensibility
1973 / 14 min / color / sound
Director: Lynda Benglis

With this film, certain attributes where the ideas that kept my attention.  The radio overcast seemed more like white noise, it didn’t actually have to be there, and this film was more about the two characters caressing the other.  Special attention was paid to their hands and face, definitely emotion and senses were a major role in this film.  The telecast seemed to be just random jabber but it separated our cast from public to private life.  Depending on certain angle shots on the other hand created some gender confusion in which you couldn’t tell if two were male or female, but it didn’t matter, you watched the two people be together which almost brought you along with them.  Some major factors were defiantly lighting, it was a very bright white light and their lipstick and hair were very contrasting colors which allowed you to associate them with their character as a way of keeping track.

So, while watching this movie, I got a lot of references to other sources of material, like Olympus, coal mines, executives/top floors, why did Rotwang keep both Maria's alive?  Einstein-mad scientist, hair, glasses, battle scene-war-soldiers carrying the wounded/dead, Egypt, the 5th Element movie, marching patterns, Fiddler on the Roof, witches and pilgrims, and everyone had a conscious.  So with all that in mind, I aslo got another forwarded email from my grandpa about soldiers and the war, so instead of writing about our discussion about the movie, I wrote something else to kind of incorporate all these aspects and it seems fitting!

Man makes machine

Man runs machine

Man makes village

Man runs village

Those in disagreement

Are sent under

Never to be heard from again

Separate parties

Same basic idea

One is right

And one is wrong

But who is to say

As a Whoopee Cushion I am here for your comedic enjoyment, a practical joke, an embarrassment inhibitor, I am your class clown.  Coincidently like most objects created my ban, I was an accident, but you know, I’ve come to terms with that!  Because of my existence I’ve brought about so many other gag toys such as the plastic vomit and fake poop, which is my personal favorite.  Such tricksters like ourselves enjoy creating laughs for children throughout the world, because of this luxury; we’ve been passed down there several generations to thousands of children.  This surprisingly has made me a very sociable object, like a VISA card commercial, you might consider the memories you make with me to be “priceless.”  I am one of a kind and because of my pure uniqueness, replication can only be satisfactory.  The laughter and smiles in which I create for all people, young and old will continue to spread silly immature humor to those around them.  Physical comedy of a bodily function is what I do best!  And no one can top that!

How I fell in love with my Prosthesis!  It was sometime in spring a few years ago, I was still recovering from the loss of my last automotive, when I got word that there was to be a new love in my life.  It was early evening on a Wednesday, as I waited downstairs from my lofting area; she pulled into the round-a-bout.  A smile so striking, it reminded me of my last three partners in crime.  She was sleek, a seductive cardinal red exterior with a dark black exotic interior.  At first I was hesitant.  “How could I replace my last one?”  He was deep mysterious navy blue, with every sort of bonus I could ever ask for, extremely out of my league and way too good for me, but he was mine.  Now to downgrade but attempt to upgrade would be challenging.  I hopped into the drivers seat, “Oh a stick, a manual, how I’ve missed that so!”  As I looked around the interior, this beauty was far less advance and a completely different model then my last blue ride, but she was red.  Like the woman in the red dress, I couldn’t resist.  She is my way of transportation.  Freedom is sweet!  She can take me places, faster, sweeter and further then anyway I could do myself.  The way her blue and orange lights gaze dimly at me as night falls, yeah we’re in love.  We have our problems, but it’s nothing new that I can’t fix.

Hey down in front!

What!  I feel bright today!

My wheels are turning, my wheels are turning, time is ticking, time is ticking, faster faster faster faster GO!

My hair’s perfect today, beautiful symmetrical, highlighted by my brain.

Tis the light of day.

Gotta go gotta go gotta go right now!

Has anyone seen my keys?

Mademoiselle, your car awaits you!

Thank you dearest Edna, I’m off for a gallivant.

Who is this man, pushing my wheel?  Hmph I don’t need him, this pedestal shall keep me afloat.

I stalk her from a distance, my eyes black, full of envy.  She has it all.  The hair, the legs, the body and the brain, who could ask for more?

A light bulb, full of energy, my mind always spinning, like electricity running through the wires of a vacant house, someone’s watching me!  I can feel the sense of thrill they receive from watching me at a distance. 

Sarah

Fashioning the Body

Concept Rythming Paper #2

I am a born female changed male, straight turned gay was hetero now homo but flexible because I am Trans.  Trans what, transsexual, transgender, transman, transwomen, what if I am just a person?  The label in which you submit yourself too is as much apart of you as you are of it.  Scott Turner Schofield’s performance of “Becoming a Man in 127 Easy Steps,” provides the opportunity for Scott to entertain and inform his audience that he is not the first, nor the last of his kind, but a link in history that sparks thought worthy of discussion.  It is Epic Theatre in Brechtian theology.

The room goes dark as the stage lights come up.  The narration cues the video of a baby fetus, solemn in a womb with the beating of a single heart.  Overhead a protective yet caring acquaintance informs our sense of imagination that this is a safe environment.  Dressed in gray pajamas, ready to settle down for bed, in time for a story, Scott intrigues the idea of building a “fort” with an open invitation.  Enclosed by three drapes appearing overhead, we have stepped forward to allow for this illumination to capture our senses.  Settling his props, the audience shifts one last time as Scott reads us his rules for the game, silently in agreement, numbers begin to fly in hopes of a little satire.  127 stories allowing for the intimacy level to rise between Scott and his peers as these personal tales awaken our senses and begin to provoke our emotions.

PERFOMATIVITY

So…?

Yeah…

…Haha

This is ridiculous, wait, how do you spell ridiculous?

If we knew how to spell it, that would be performativity.

R-I-D-I-C-U-L-O-U-S

Check out the big brain on CERISE!

Spelling Bee Champion!

Sweet.

Dude…

Sweet Dude!

Yeah man.

Aw Dude!

Shit Yeah!

Haha Fuck Dude!

Oh Dude!

His Exit has come Abound! 

The Exit Sign was born January 17, 1946 to a man by the name of Harold Johnson.  Exit spent most of his childhood, somewhat behind the crowd, quiet, but spoke when he needed too.  The Exit sign graduated from Lipinski High and went off to do some great things.  Many of his works can be seen in doorways, ranging from classrooms, shops, planes and his greatest achievement aboard Apollo 13.  In his later life he became a bit more secluded, solemnly standing adrift, addressing to the masses, their escape route.  The Exit Sign is survived by his wife, Enter, who occasionally would stand next to her beloved husband on certain occasions.  His 233 family members, including sons, daughters, and a vast array of grandsigns will hold a public memorial Saturday at noon, to be held at Pier 51 in Seattle.  There will be a private function held for family members and close friends there after at an undisclosed location, where later, the Exit Sign will be tossed aside as his wishes permitted.  On the behalf of the entire Sign family, they want to thank everyone for their thoughts and the use of their directional instruction.  The Exit sign passed on Tuesday from an existing electrical condition, he’ll sorely be missed.

It’s brain damage!  Wait, NO!  Is it mind damage?  I stand behold a properly placed mirror, starring with a blank spot in mind.  This image has two legs, two arms, a trunk, a neck and a head.  I am no the only one in the world with this condition, and though it does not bother me, my frustration may be apparent when people stare, double take, or glace over as I pass them.  I know they’re just curious and perhaps don’t know any better, but my mood surceases when this disease is pointed out to my face!  According to my doctors, there’s a condition that is connected in the nervous system and mind, but for me, the knowledge of my own body and its parts, I add knowledge of other bodies and their parts in every hour of every day.  My mother tells me, I’m just like everyone else, but if that were the case, I could recognize this vessel in which my soul confides.  I read of another case, such as mine, it were of a man, much older then me, I would say but he would only wash the right side of his body, and when he was told of what he was doing, laughed miserably and then proceeded to wash the right side of his body.  This right side just did not exist to him.  A story my doctor actually speaks about is of yet another man, laying in a hospital bed with his arm hanging off the side, he was asked if it were his, he responded negatively, but when held up in front of him, he reluctantly agreed it was indeed his own arm.  Now don’t let me gender fool you, many other females battle with this problem as well.  I met a woman recently, who had just completed a test on her left side by placing her right hand on her left shoulder and slowly gracing down her arm, and even though she saw clearly what she had done, she adhered to the opinion that a person must believe her intuitions and not her eyes.  My illness began when I was very young; I slowly lost everlasting feeling, or the idea of my body.  I tried to be brave, but when you logically loose your legs and the numbness moves to other areas, my heart could not keep up.  Tomorrow I’m to see another doctor, who’s going to observe me while I take the Rorschach test, which I’m sure you’ve all heard of, perhaps known as the “ink blotch” test.  The last time, I only saw animals or just faces.  Some say my mind has just wiped off the “body” as a way for protecting myself.  They could be right, but for all I know, this entire situation gives a new respect for such a simple after dinner performance.  Like taking ones body out for a walk.  If I’m doomed for a life without my own body or the sight of others bodies, I might as well enjoy the satire in those who don’t understand me, or for those who treat me!

As I’m standing in front of the mirror, glancing over multiple parts of my body, starring back into my own eyes, thinking to myself, “Damn those are amazing!”  There’s a man pacing back and fourth just outside the door.  He’s nervous and anxious, waiting for my white lie to catch up to him.  I pick up my toothbrush, add my toothpaste, dampen with a little water and begin the process of cleansing.  As my right hand moves back and fourth across my teeth, he is still pacing like mad, muttering under his breath, “we  need to hurry up, let’s go, it’s getting late, what if he comes back and catches me.”  Inside I’m laughing, there’s nobody coming.  I’m relaxed, still hardly dressed in my T Shirt and shorts, fresh out of bed in fact.  He is completely dressed, shorts, boots, hat, and a shirt, his bags are packed and now he’s standing in the doorway, just watching me.  I glance through the mirror over at him, as he realizes my lack of hurry, a complete calmness arrives just as I spit, and put my toothbrush away.  Yeah, he’s still coming, but I’ll decide when you’re busted!